


Du Blutest für Mein Seelenheil

by dahhhmer



Category: Columbine - Fandom, Historical Criminals RPF, True Crime - Fandom
Genre: Blood, Dom/sub Undertones, First Kiss, First Time Blow Jobs, M/M, Masochism, Tongue Piercings, Unsanitary
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-19
Updated: 2020-10-19
Packaged: 2021-03-08 23:20:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,709
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27104857
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dahhhmer/pseuds/dahhhmer
Summary: Eric gets it in his head that he's going to pierce his own tongue. Dylan doesn't think he has it in him.(He doesn't, but Dylan does.)
Relationships: Eric Harris/Dylan Klebold
Comments: 5
Kudos: 40





	Du Blutest für Mein Seelenheil

**Author's Note:**

> Dedicated to [thisishardcore](https://archiveofourown.org/users/thisishardcore/). Thank you, as always, for the brain worms. <3
> 
> Titled after Ich Tu Dir Weh by Rammstein. Translates roughly to _you bleed for my salvation_. Unbeta'd.
> 
> Edit: this work has been translated into Russian [here](https://ficbook.net/readfic/10304058) by Fluttershy_The_Killer! It's an honor :)

When Eric gets it in his head that he's going to pierce his own tongue, Dylan doesn't hesitate to tell him he's an idiot.

Dylan's derision only encourages Eric, though. He gets a little zine from one of the goth girls in the year below them, a DIY piercing guide that she'd procured from God knows where. After school, he even gets what he hopes is the right type of barbell from Hot Topic. Stainless steel, plain silver.

When the time finally comes, though, Eric has trouble going through with shoving the sterilized needle through his tongue.

Dylan, who had anticipated exactly this, heckles Eric from his spot on the closed toilet seat in the basement bathroom. Eric glowers at Dylan's reflection in the mirror.

"Shut up! I'm just afraid I'll do it crooked," Eric snaps finally. "You have to get it right between the veins."

Dylan smirks at him. "Let me do it, then," he says. It's a dare; he's calling Eric's bluff, and they both know it. Eric locks eyes with him in the mirror, hesitant.

"Unless..." Dylan begins to goad, but Eric cuts him off.

"Fine, fuck! Fuck you. Get over here and do it for me."

Dylan seems mildly surprised for a moment, but then he gets to his feet, crowding into Eric's space at the sink. The bathroom suddenly feels two times smaller with Dylan towering over him like this; Eric feels the edge of the sink pressing against his lower back. He ignores the rush of _something_ their position makes him feel, handing the needle and lighter over to Dylan.

"Wish I had a clamp or something," Dylan says thoughtfully. He runs the end of the needle through the flame for a few seconds, then gestures to Eric's mouth. "Open up."

Eric hesitates a moment, then opens his mouth and sticks out his tongue. When Dylan makes to grab it, though, Eric yelps and jerks away.

"Dude, gross!" he huffs.

Dylan laughs. "My hands are clean! I have to hold it, Reb, c'mon." He presses closer without waiting for an answer, effectively pinning Eric to the sink with his hips. Eric tries desperately not to think about how close they are; instead, he reluctantly but obediently opens his mouth again. This time he doesn't flinch away when Dylan's clean, dry fingertips grab the end of his tongue. He's right; they're clean, leaving only a faint salty taste on Eric's tongue.

"Alright, stay still," Dylan says. There's a light flush on his cheeks, and Eric wonders to himself what this would look like to anyone who walked in on them right now. He glances briefly to the door, confirming to himself that it's locked.

"Ready?" Dylan asks. Eric makes a vague humming noise, and Dylan snickers. "Alright. Three, two..."

The noise Eric makes when the needle is pushed through his tongue sounds, even to his own adrenaline-addled brain, a lot more like a _moan_ than a pained grunt. Eric sees the way Dylan's eyes go wide with surprise and squeezes his own shut, praying Dylan doesn't mention it.

"You good, Reb?" Dylan asks, recovering quickly and grabbing the barbel. Eric makes a vague noise in response that once again sounds far more erotic than he intends. Dylan hums, sliding out the needle and replacing it with the jewelry. Eric tastes blood immediately. He tries to squirm away from Dylan again, because—

Because in the brief few seconds it took for Dylan to shove the needle and then the jewelry through his tongue, Eric's dick has gotten so hard he imagines he's actually a little lightheaded from the sudden bloodrush. 

"Hold _still,_ " Dylan says, annoyed and blissfully unaware of the state Eric is in. He nudges a knee between Eric's legs in an attempt to get him to stay put. Humiliated and terrified, Eric keeps his eyes shut. The only way he knows Dylan finally notices that he's hard is from the way Dylan's breath catches on his next breath.

"You..." Dylan begins uncertainly, but trails off. Eric stays stock still, keeps his eyes shut tight. Then Dylan says, in a wavering voice, "I didn't hit the vein, but you're bleeding, uh. Kind of a lot."

Eric reopens his eyes. Dylan hasn't pulled away, isn't freaking out at all. Eric squirms again, and it quickly becomes apparent why Dylan hasn't fled the bathroom yet.

He's hard, too.

One of Eric's hands comes up to grip at the front of Dylan's T-shirt, his expression fierce but imploring. Dylan, because he knows Eric better than anyone else ever has, seems to get the message loud and clear. He pauses for another half a second, then leans down, leans in, and sucks Eric's tongue into his mouth. Blood and jewelry and all.

Eric groans, free hand twisting into Dylan's slightly greasy, tangled hair. They're not even kissing, really, and this should be fucking disgusting, but all Eric can think about is the way Dylan barely even hesitated before doing it. The way Dylan's swallowing his blood right now, willingly, _enthusiastically_ — and the way he nudges the barbel with his own tongue. It should hurt — it _does_ hurt — but the pain just goes straight to Eric's dick.

Dylan grabs Eric's hips with wide hands, breaking away from his mouth for a moment. The next time they meet, it's definitely an actual kiss, heated and rough and clumsy and so fucking _good_ that Eric worries he might come in his jeans. He scrambles to get Dylan's belt undone, muffling an annoyed noise against Dylan's mouth when Dylan seems to have the same idea and their hands get tangled between them. Dylan breaks the kiss with a soft laugh so he can look down and focus for a moment. Eric watches with breathless anticipation as Dylan frees his dick from the confines of his boxer briefs, then reaches out to tug Dylan's out through the front hole of his boxers.

"You're too short," Dylan mutters. Eric scowls at him in response, but hops up onto the counter so they're at a more even height. He spreads his legs so Dylan can stand between them, then yanks him down into another kiss. Neither of them is great at kissing, but Eric pushes his sore, still-bleeding tongue into Dylan's mouth; he grunts but doesn't seem to mind, sucking on the barbel for a moment in a way that makes Eric see stars. Dylan starts to stroke Eric's dick, and it takes Eric a moment to catch up. Once he does, though, he gets a hand around Dylan's dick in turn.

Both boys have rather dry hands, and they're both a little clumsy at jerking off anyone but themselves, but it doesn't seem to matter in the heat of the moment. They kiss deep and messy, muffling little groans and whines into each other's mouths, hands moving as rhythmically as they can manage without breaking the kiss.

Eric's right on the edge when he gets an idea. He doesn't let himself overthink it, just pushes on Dylan's chest a little so he steps back. Dylan seems wounded at first, especially when Eric pushes him back even more — but then he sinks down to his knees. Dylan stares at him, pupils blown wide, and runs an uncertain hand over Eric's closely-cropped hair.

"Are you—" Dylan starts, but Eric pinches his hip and he shuts up. Determined, Eric licks his lips briefly, then gathers all his courage and leans in to drag his sore, swollen tongue over the head of Dylan's cock.

"Shit, Reb," Dylan hisses. He curls one hand around the back of Eric's neck and brings the other one up to cover his mouth. The bar of the towel rack must be digging into his back, Eric thinks randomly, but Dylan either doesn't notice or doesn't care. Eric leans in again and takes the tip into his mouth, this time, swirling the barbel and his sore tongue around it inexpertly. Dylan's hand twitches on the back of his neck but doesn't push; he drops his head back against the wall with a thud.

Eric gets a hand around himself and gives his dick unsteady jerks while he starts to bob his head. He's careful with his teeth but not at all careful with his throbbing tongue; the saliva he leaves behind on Dylan's cock is tinged pink with blood. The salty taste of precum mixes strangely with the metallic tang of the blood, but Eric finds he doesn't find it too terrible — maybe even enjoys it.

When Eric first got down on his knees, it had been with a mental image of Dylan fucking his mouth, making him take it. He doesn't mention this, and it doesn't happen, but when he finally comes a minute or two later, it's with that thought in mind. Dylan follows just a few seconds after him, fingernails digging into the back of Eric's neck hard enough to hurt. Eric doesn't mind, though, still blissed out from the aftershocks of his own orgasm.

Eric scrambles to his feet when Dylan is done, turning around and spitting into the sink rather than swallowing. He turns on the faucet, watching it rinse the pink-tinged cum down the drain in mild fascination.

It's only when he hears Dylan zip his jeans back up that he's dragged back to reality. Eric scrambles to pull his own underwear and pants back up around his waist, avoiding looking at Dylan for as long as possible. Neither of them speak for several long seconds, both just sort of — standing there. Then Dylan clears his throat.

"That looks like it hurts," he offers tentatively. "You should probably, uh. Rinse your mouth. And get some ice."

"Yeah," Eric agrees, turning to grab the bottle of mouthwash on the edge of the counter. "Could you go get..."

"Sure," Dylan says quickly, and all but flees the bathroom to go get some ice from the freezer upstairs.

Eric frowns at himself in the mirror while he swishes the antiseptic mouthwash around. The sting is distinctly unpleasant now, and his tongue feels heavy and swollen.

Maybe Dylan had been right about it being a bad idea, after all. It doesn't matter; Eric can't find it in himself to give a shit.


End file.
